“Too bad that all the people who know how to run the country are busy driving taxicabs and cutting hair.”
George Burns
Do you remember Grassman? Well, he’s still around. He’s been hanging out on our kitchen counter with our jade plant, watching the fall storms blow through our yard. Some of his grass has turned brown from neglect, I’m afraid, and his facial features aren’t what they used to be, but he seems to be in good spirits nonetheless. He has a certain wisdom in his eyes; it’s as though he knows that he was little more than ‘craft of the week’ to my daughter, but somehow he doesn’t mind.
The other day I was tempted to dispose of Grassman, (perish the thought,) but I realized that Pip had yet to give him a hair-cut. I asked her if she was interested and, of course, she jumped at the chance.
I took a before photo:
Several photos during the haircut:
And of course, an ‘after’ photo:
Fig was very patient throughout the entire procedure, so she had earned some styling time. It was the first time she had ever actually held scissors on her own, so she was delighted to simply pose with Grassman instead of attempting to make any cuts.
I was surprised at how naturally Pip assumed the role of ‘hairstylist.’ She didn’t take her eyes off of Grassman whilst trimming, she talked to him throughout the cut, and when it was all said and done, she asked to have her client back because she had spotted one long, stray piece of grass that she’d missed. She had trouble cutting that last piece and sighed as she said, “We need an Elton.”
Elton cuts my husband’s hair.
